


Geometry In The Humming

by Geenee27



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, pff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 17:01:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13551714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geenee27/pseuds/Geenee27
Summary: Happy Friday to you all. Mostly Phrack being fluffy. No plot. Because its PFF.





	Geometry In The Humming

__ There is geometry in the humming of the strings ,  
there is music in the spacing of the spheres.  
\- Pythagoras 

 

 

 

 

The Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher relaxed against the myriad of pillows propped up against the headboard of her bed, perusing a folded newspaper in one hand while the other balanced her morning cup of tea. As she skimmed the headlines she slowly became aware of an ambient noise, drifting through from the en suite attached to the bedroom. She looked up slightly perplexed and then a delighted grin spread across her face. Apparently her never ending source of mystery was yet again revealing another secreted tidbit. Her buttoned up, noble at all times (well not always), serious senior detective inspector has a penchant for ... humming.

 

Phryne was trying to decide whether to tease him about it when the en suite door opened and the man himself appeared in a robe, towelling his wet hair. He looked up at her and stopped, eyeing the huge grin on her face.

 

“ What?”, he said warily.

 

“ Oh nothing,” she dismissed lightly, “I thought I heard a noise. Did you hear anything?”

 

“ What... kind... of noise?” He was afraid to ask but couldn't help himself. His senses were telling him he was two steps behind and would not be particularly happy about it. Again.

 

“ It sounded like music.”

 

Jack lifted his chin and listened for a minute. “I don't hear anything.”

 

“ Must have been my imagination,” she shrugged and buried her face back into the newspaper.

Jack moved towards the bedroom door, opened it and as he crossed the threshold glanced back at her, a confused look on his face. It was a look he wore quite often when it came her. He regarded her, looking for clues for a few moments then sighed, turned and sauntered off to his dressing room across the hall.

 

Phryne giggled and grabbed another piece of toast from the breakfast tray sitting before her on the bed.

 

So, her dour inspector liked to hum in his unguarded moments and seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact. Who knew? She would have to explore this new development.

 

Several minutes later the man returned, now perfectly turned out in a three piece suit and tie, hair carefully combed and pomaded. He strode over to her side of the bed and bent down to kiss her goodbye before he headed to the station. Phryne moved the breakfast tray aside and got onto her knees so she could smooth his lapels and straightened the knot of his tie. Really, the man couldn't tie a proper knot if his life depended on it. She suspected he did it on purpose, his ties seemed perfectly straight when she first met him.

 

Jack looked down at her amused smirk as she fussed and to her surprise hummed a little, letting her know through that code of theirs that he was on to her but was still trying to figure out what she was up to. She looked up at him coyly and he knew he was in for it somehow.

 

“ Any chance you can stay out of trouble today, Miss Fisher?”

 

“ I'll do my best Jack, but I can't speak for the criminality inclined within the jurisdiction of City South. You never know what the day may bring.”

 

“ Well do your best, my sanity depends on it.” He leaned in and gave her a very serious lingering kiss before straightening and as he turned to go grabbed the last remaining triangle of toast before walking out the door.

 

******************

 

As the lady detective went about her business for the next few days, she surreptitiously listened for her partner's hum and it proved to be positively distracting when she caught him at it.

 

There was of course the obvious humming a of a favourite Gershwin tune while he showered or shaved, or when he absentmindedly tickled the keys of the piano in the parlour as he waited for her to descend the stairs in all her sartorial splendour. He got bonus points if attired in his tuxedo. 

 

The thought eventually came to her one day that surely this humming can't be something new and she began to suspect that this was not unusual behaviour but something that she had totally missed after they met and as their friendship and partnership grew.

 

Phryne reminisced back to the early days of their acquaintance, when they knew so little about each other. She tingles inside as she recalls the anticipatory feelings, the careful metaphorical circling of each other, the dance - the glorious dance - so to speak.

 

Surely the first hum must have been one of consternation when she flitted out of the Andrews bathroom and he turned away to seriously scan back over the crime scene. Or a contemplative hum as he tried to come to terms of what the hell had just hit him.

 

“ Fancy that!” Jack looked down at her shoes and hummed disbelievingly, after he had calculated their ballistic capabilities. 

 

Oh, the looks he would give her as he eyed her across his desk, or on his desk. The wary hum, or maybe it was more of a harrumph, as she waved off his scold that she was not taking the situation seriously and then swirled the forkful of gratin in front of him. And was that a satisfied hum when he finally succumbed and let the cheesy potato creation roll around in his mouth. Later she was sure there was some humming involved when she entered the station one night, having been summoned, to see him surreptitiously perusing a file. A file which he closed quite quickly after catching sight of her in his peripherals.

 

Then there was the way he had quietly hummed thoughtfully as he listened to her theories, nodding his head politely, blinking those large blue eyes, not giving anything away as he processed her words. 

 

And how many times had she watched those large hands and long beautifully tapered fingers go through the paperwork on his desk or in a case file - “Hmmm, and there were black smudge marks on his right index finger and thumb.” - or write in his notebook, and not notice a soft hum as his mind put the pieces together.

 

Miss Lavender's office, as he was going through her desk to find evidence of a rift with Miss Charlesworth. The hum before the triumphant 'aha' as he turned in the desk chair to smugly glare at her. They had really gotten into it that day and it was quite delicious she remembered.

 

The careful hum and contemplation of the wine, or grape juice really, as he held up that tiny glass and listened to her tale of stomping grapes with her feet - mostly.

 

When she threatened to put him on a couch. “Hummm, sounds inviting.” Now that hum had been just sinful, so low it seemed to come from the very tips of his toes.

 

How on earth had she not noticed all this before?

 

Perhaps, she concluded, because the man was such an assault on all her senses, humming had not been foremost on her mind.

 

Well, it was very apparent now. She sighs as she literally feels her skin pebble at the thought of how his lips hum along the slim column of her neck and across her jawline to that spot behind her ear that drives her crazy. Or how his hum brushes along the outline of her shoulder and down to her breast. That hum vibrates completely through her to her very core.

 

One of her favourite though, a very favourite is his awakening hum. She would open her eyes slowly as she emerged from sleep, peering up through eyelashes and a tousled black fringe of hair at him as he slept beside her. He would be faced away from her, his one arm flung out to his side, the other gently lying along her back as her head cradled in the nook between his shoulder and chest. 

 

His chest would be rising and falling slightly and she would follow the movement down his muscled torso to his taut abdomen and the line of fine dark hair that started there and continued under the blankets. Reaching stealthily under the sheet, she finds without surprise that he is always, always half alert. She tentatively caresses the soft skin of his hip and on either side of his groin before running her finger tips lightly through the curly dark hair there. Then slowly, oh so slowly run her palm down the delicate underside of his stiffening cock.

 

 

She'd raise her eyes to his face just to revel in that moment, as she slowly smiles into his chest. That moment when his brow would furrow slightly, his cheek would make the merest of twitches just so and then there it was – the hum, his awakening hum.

Yes, that might be her favourite of all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
